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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941585">Third Act</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsideofCrazy/pseuds/UpsideofCrazy'>UpsideofCrazy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Blood and Injury, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, OT8, Stray Kids were a childhood superhero team, it gets better I promise!, moreso at the beginning, they aren't any more</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsideofCrazy/pseuds/UpsideofCrazy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been nearly a decade since tragedy forced Stray Kids, the once-beloved team of child superheroes, to disbandment. Though some of the former members have maintained connections of varying tenacity, they have not worked alongside each other in years. Then superheroes start dying, and there is more to these deaths than first thought, and Stray Kids will need to band together once more to face this new threat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Everyone &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Opening Act</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There always needs to be more superhero aus in every fandom, and so I decided to try my hand at this au for the skz fandom! Note that this is a bit darker tonally than most superhero aus? (and if you know me from The Jarem, this is Much darker than that lol) It will get less heavy with time! But in the beginning, at least, it's definitely gonna lean into that angst tag.</p>
<p>I'm not sure how long this thing is gonna end up being, but knowing my history with long-form fics, it'll probably be at least 50k. I'm also hoping to do biweekly updates, but we'll see if I can stick to that. I'll still be updating The Jarem alongside this though, so don't worry if you follow that piece too!</p>
<p>(Also just as a side note, "spec" is the term used in this fic for a superpower!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jisung woke up, as usual, to a quiet house. The first class Chan taught started at eight and he liked getting there early to answer student questions, so he was inevitably out the door before Jisung had even begun his last REM cycle. Most of Jisung’s performances fell in the late afternoon or evening anyway, so he could afford to sleep in. And it was nice, having the morning – what was left of it, at any rate – to himself.</p>
<p>He took his time getting up, letting the last dregs of slumber slide off him along with the thin top sheet he had been sleeping beneath. It was the middle of summer, but Jisung still needed to sleep beneath something. He felt more secure that way.</p>
<p>He shuffled his way over to the closet, opening the creaky door slowly and letting one hand run over the soft edge of the futon tucked into the corner. The other hand rummaged aimlessly through his clothes. Most of what he owned was in some shade of white, grey, or black; the monochrome palette made it easier to coordinate outfits on his own. There were a few bright sweaters in the mix, each a distinct, fluffy texture, but – again – it was the middle of summer. He settled on one of his V-necks and a pair of basketball shorts. He’d have to dress up for his recital later – coat tails and all – but for now, he was craving something comfortable.</p>
<p>He ran his hand one more time along the edge of the futon before he closed the closet door and headed into the small kitchen to scrounge up breakfast. He sneezed once, sharply, before wiping his nose on the back of his wrist. That old futon was probably laden with dust; it hadn’t been used in just about three years.</p>
<p><em>We have to hold onto it!</em> Chan would protest every time Jisung brought up how maybe they should consider donating the futon, <em>in case we get a guest!</em> Jisung wouldn’t tell him that they never had guests in the first place, but even if they were to ever entertain someone else, they had a whole other futon sitting in the corner of Chan’s closet. If he was being honest with himself, Jisung didn’t want to donate this dusty old futon, either. Jisung knew why Chan kept holding on to it: because it was Changbin’s, and even though Changbin hadn’t stepped foot into their apartment in years, there was always a chance he could show up suddenly, and then they’d be able to offer him his old futon, and wouldn’t that be something? That’s what Jisung thought Chan thought, anyhow. The truth of the matter was neither he nor Chan had seen Changbin in three years.</p>
<p>Actually, if you wanted to split hairs, Jisung hadn’t seen anyone for a good bit longer than three years, but that line of thinking was what Chan had termed “macabre humor,” and it unsettled most others, so Jisung tended to keep that kind of thought to himself. Not that there was anyone in the house for him to talk to right now, anyways. He started humming, quietly, just to fill the silence, and the sound echoed off the walls of the apartment, painting him a mental map of the space around him. Everything was familiar and in place, except…</p>
<p>Jisung wandered over to the kitchen table, where his echolocation had picked up on an abnormality in the space. He reached out with a cautious hand, brushing his fingertips over the base of what Chan had dubbed “The Nice Vase” (as opposed to “The Crack Den Vase,” which Jisung was half-convinced was actually a strangely shaped bong). He leaned in, and inhaled the sweet, heavy scent of flowers.</p>
<p><em>Roses</em>, Jisung thought. <em>Yellow, probably.</em></p>
<p>Ever since Felix had opened his small flower shop a couple years ago, Chan had made it a personal goal of his to visit at least once a week and purchase a bouquet of flowers, or a house plant, or a garden ornament. Jisung and Chan’s apartment had in turn grown very lush over the years Chan had upheld this small tradition.</p>
<p>Sometimes Jisung would tag along, but he didn’t like leaving the apartment much. His echolocation trick only really worked well in small spaces. He could glimpse enough of the outside world with his sound waves to avoid bumping into big stationary things like trees or buildings, but it didn’t work so well when things were moving, like cars, or small, like curbs. If he wanted to venture outside, he’d need a chaperone, and Jisung didn’t want to inconvenience Chan any more than he already did. Asking Jeongin was absolutely out of the question; that friendship was still too new, too tenuous.</p>
<p>Jisung could have maybe asked Felix to pick him up, but he’d be drawing the other away from his job and down some very non-accessible paths. And, besides, Jisung and Felix were still trying to figure out the newest versions of each other.</p>
<p>They had been inseparable after The End of Stray Kids: Felix giving Jisung absolutely shit directions as Jisung pushed his wheelchair to and from their shared classes at the Academy; Jisung and Felix curling up in the same bed where Jisung would thread his legs through Felix’s even if the other couldn’t feel them and Felix would move Jisung’s hands to cradle his freckle-spattered face; Jisung trusting Felix to pick out clothes that would at least somewhat coordinate and inevitably being let down time and time again. But then they had graduated, and Jisung had moved in with Chan and Changbin, and Felix had moved to the shopping district with Minho. They had tried to keep in touch, but Jisung hadn’t been comfortable with texting via voice yet and Felix couldn’t easily walk over to get him, and it was simpler to drift apart. Then Changbin left, and things had splintered further from there.</p>
<p>Chan hadn’t let Felix drift, though. Chan hadn’t let any of them drift if he could help it. Jisung knew for a fact that it was Chan’s influence that had brought Jeongin back to them from where he had been teetering on the edge of falling fully into the Academy’s realm of influence and turned into some sort of salaryman superhero at the beck and call of the higher-ups. Chan had kept Jisung afloat, too, adapting seamlessly to his new way of living and – after a few initial roadblocks – treating him the same as always, with only a little more hovering (an inevitability when coexisting anywhere in Chan’s sphere). Chan continued to send little updates to Seungmin and Hyunjin despite the fact that they never wrote back, and Chan would swing by Minho’s boutique every so often and come back with a particularly soft piece of clothing for Jisung to wear. And, of course, Chan bought flowers from Felix, and brought him pressed flowers in return.</p>
<p>With two careful fingers, Jisung pinched the stem of one of the roses, smiling to himself as he realized it had been de-thorned. Felix’s doing, no doubt. Now sure that he wouldn’t accidentally poke a hole in his finger, Jisung abandoned his caution and plucked the rose whole-handed from the vase, bringing it up to his nose to inhale. Initially sweet, but full of depth. <em>Like Felix</em>.</p>
<p>A soft chime from his bedroom alerted Jisung to the fact that he had a new text. He wandered back into the room, bringing the rose with him. There was a half-full water glass by his bed; he could keep the rose with him for a couple days. He was sure Chan wouldn’t mind.</p>
<p>Finding his phone on top of his dresser, he picked it up and unlocked it with the fingerprint sensor. He tapped the screen twice to activate voice control. “Open messaging,” he said. “Check texts.”</p>
<p>“One new voice message from Lix,” his phone said back.</p>
<p><em>Speak of the devil</em>, Jisung thought, grinning.</p>
<p>“Open chat with Lix. Play most recent message.”</p>
<p>There was a brief pause as his phone processed his request, and then Felix’s bright voice filled the room. “Hi Sung! Hope you’re doing well and that the pre-recital jitters aren’t too bad! Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be there tonight and I’m dragging Minho with me! So expect the biggest most luxurious bouquet afterwards! Sense you later!”</p>
<p>Felix’s every sentence was an exclamation, and the other’s enthusiasm had Jisung’s smile growing. And Felix would be attending his recital! What’s more, Minho would be there, too, and Jisung was pretty sure Jeongin would attend as well. Chan was obviously coming, and that was five of the eight, wasn’t it? Jisung was pretty sure that would be more of their old team gathered in any one spot since those early years after The End.</p>
<p>The “pre-recital jitters,” as Felix had worded it, were starting to kick in for Jisung, but it was laced with something smoother, something brighter. Hope, maybe; for something Jisung didn’t yet want to name for fear of spoiling it. Still, it threaded through his veins and filled his head with the good kind of static, as sweet and full of as-of-yet undisturbed depths as the rose sitting next to his bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jeongin was unsuccessfully trying to nap on one of the lumpy couches in the heroes’ lounge when Chan found him. It had been a slow morning so far; a couple of the elemental-inclined heroes had been called out to manage an apartment fire, and a few of Jaebum's team had been pulled to defuse an armed bank robbery. Nothing had warranted Jeongin's particular brand of firepower, though, and so he had spent most of his shift trying and failing to sleep.</p>
<p>He did consider faking unconsciousness when Chan poked his head into the lounge with a quiet "you up?" Jeongin would've pretended to sleep if it had been one of Jihyo's girls, or Nickhyun, or even head honcho JYP himself. But this was Chan, and – despite everything – Jeongin still considered Chan his leader, so Jeongin groaned something unintelligible and slowly raised himself into a sitting position while clearing the right end of the couch for Chan to sit.</p>
<p>"How're you doing?" Chan asked, eyes full of concern as he no doubt took in Jeongin's wrinkled uniform, plentiful eye bags, and greasy hair.</p>
<p>"Oh, you know. Same as always," Jeongin mumbled in response. He couldn't meet Chan's eyes for more than a few moments at a time, but he still felt the near-overwhelming waves of concern radiating off the other man. In all these years, Chan's frantic worry over his team hadn't lessened any. Actually, Jeongin suspected that his worry might have grown with every year that passed, especially after Changbin had gone MIA a few years back.</p>
<p>To keep Chan from raising any more potentially probing questions, Jeongin asked, "What d'you need me for?"</p>
<p>Chan blinked, obviously switching his train of thought over to his original purpose. It took him a few seconds, but eventually his eyes focused back on Jeongin.</p>
<p>"Jisung's recital is tonight." It wasn't a question, but it was asking something all the same.</p>
<p>"I know, I took the evening off." And Jeongin had; he didn't usually work morning shifts, but Chan had mentioned Jisung's recital last week in a tone that was just off-handed enough to mean he was incredibly serious about the event, and Jeongin had cleared his calendar.</p>
<p>Attending Jisung's recitals was a new thing for Jeongin. Their Mockingbird had always been drawn to music, but since The End, he'd thrown himself full force into the art. He'd been having concerts since graduating from the Academy, and he'd only gotten bigger and better as time went on. Jeongin had just worked up the courage to attend Jisung's recitals in the past few years, and his prior hesitation had been less because of Jisung than because of Chan.</p>
<p>In those first few days, weeks, hell, <em>years</em> after The End, Jeongin had been angry. At himself, mostly, but Jeongin's ego and the Agency’s staff wouldn't let him keep that anger focused inwards and so, like everything else had so far in Jeongin's life, that energy exploded out. Chan ended up the unintentional target.</p>
<p>Chan was easy to blame. He had been their leader, their oldest, the one responsible for pulling them through mission after mission, and so it had been easy to pin that failure on him. Chan certainly attributed The End to himself, after all, and Jeongin had become so familiar with following in Chan's footsteps that the progression of his own blame was natural. Chan hated himself for what had happened, and so Jeongin hated him for what had happened, too, and it was easier, that way. Never mind that Chan had still been a child at the time. They had all been only children.</p>
<p>Jisung had stuck close to Chan and Changbin after everything, probably because those two were more familiar to him than anything else and his entire worldview had literally been shot to hell. But because Jisung stuck close to Chan, he was also caught in the crossfires of Jeongin's blame.</p>
<p>Jeongin spent those first years in the afterwards studiously avoiding every single one of his former teammates. Ironically, it was Changbin finally leaving that got Jeongin to realize how childish he had been – how childish he still was. It had still taken a couple months for Jeongin to work his way through the years of pent-up guilt and frustration and sadness, but Jeongin had eventually taken himself to one of Jisung's recitals.</p>
<p>He hadn't said anything to anyone, he had just gone. He didn't have to say anything. Supernova was one of JYP's most prominent heroes, and so Jeongin – the man behind the mask – was afforded certain privileges. He could get evenings off a bit easier than the other heroes, and so one evening in early spring he had clocked out at exactly 6 pm and made his way down to the concert hall.</p>
<p>Jisung had been incredible, of course. Jeongin doubted the other could ever be anything less than absolutely breathtaking in whatever he did, but still. Jeongin hadn’t known a single one of the pieces Jisung brought forth from the imposing grand piano placed center stage, but he had found his eyes wet with tears regardless.</p>
<p>He had planned to slip out the side door after it was all over - he hadn’t been sure if he was up to facing Jisung just yet - but the other had heard him. Somehow, in a concert hall full of hundreds, Jisung had picked up on the unique signature of Jeongin's breath. When his recital was over and he had bowed with unseeing eyes to the symphony of applause washing over him, Jisung had found Jeongin in the back hall between the theater and the entrance to the storage rooms.</p>
<p>Jeongin hadn't had to say anything then, either. Jisung simply held his hands out, palms up, and Jeongin had covered them with his own. He let his hands warm a bit – an old, familiar trick – and Jisung's smile had been rhapsody enough to draw those small pricks of tears to Jeongin's eyes once more. He hadn't missed one of Jisung's recitals, after that.</p>
<p>Jeongin found himself blinking out of the fog of the past and meeting Chan's warm gaze once more. It was so difficult to hold Chan's gaze, because Jeongin had spent years thinking he had hated the older man when in reality he had hated nearly everything but the boy who had led them so desperately out of the worst day of their lives, who had tried his damnedest to hold them all together even when he himself was falling apart. Who was still trying, drawing Jeongin back little by little, sending small notes with pressed flowers meaning sorrow and atonement and loyalty to Felix, leaving the spare key tucked behind the fourth loose stone in the brickwork outside his apartment just in case Changbin ever wanted to come back. Chan was trying so damn hard, and Jeongin had figured maybe he could finally try a little harder, too.</p>
<p>"I invited Hyunjin to Jisung’s recital," Jeongin blurted, suddenly, and Chan's eyes grew wide with wonder. "And Seungmin. I invited them. I'm, um, not sure if they'll come, but I invited them."</p>
<p>Despite the hesitation lacing Jeongin's words, Chan's smile was bright enough to blind. "Innie," he said, and how had Jeongin ever hated this man?</p>
<p>Before anything further could be spoken, the little pager band around Jeongin’s left bicep went off, the sound high and trill and unmistakable.</p>
<p>Chan gave a little laugh, grin collapsing into something more rueful. "Go on, then. Save the world, or something."</p>
<p>There was still something tight at the back of Jeongin's throat, but he swallowed around it, managing a "You know I always do!" that sounded far more confident than Jeongin actually felt. But he wasn't Jeongin, was he? Not until this job was done. As soon as that pager went off, he packed Jeongin into a little box and lifted out the persona that was Supernova.</p>
<p>"Hey." Chan caught his wrist just as he was finishing affixing his starburst mask to his face, half-paying attention to the pager’s report of the chase scene he would be expected to bring to a halt. Jeongin tuned the report out completely when he met Chan's serious eyes. "Be safe."</p>
<p>Jeongin flipped the hand Chan had grasped to squeeze the other's wrist in return, lightly pressing warmth into the gesture. "I will. See you tonight?"</p>
<p>"See you tonight," Chan said, and it was a promise. Jeongin gave him one last grin as Jeongin, before letting Supernova slide over every inch of his being. His smile turned camera-worthy, and he stepped out of the breakroom with a confidence he was sure no one but Chan could tell he was faking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After hearing how Jeongin had invited the rest of them to Jisung's recital, Chan had spent the entire rest of the day agonizing over whether they'd show up and thoroughly distracting himself from the grading he had yet to complete for last week's Psychology of the Criminal Mind test. If Chan had been the one to ask, he doubted whether any of the others would have shown. But because it had been Jeongin, asking on behalf of Jisung… maybe. <em>Just maybe…</em></p>
<p>The former members of Stray Kids hadn't gathered in once space in nearly a decade, and the idea that they might, tonight, had Chan just about vibrating in anticipation. He had already snapped three separate pens when he had let his strength get away from him, and his fingers were stained with black ink. Chan didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now except for the possibility of seeing his team, all together again.</p>
<p><em>Well, not </em>all<em> together</em>, Chan thought, and his mood dimmed. Jeongin hadn't invited Changbin, because Jeongin didn't know <em>how</em> to invite Changbin. None of them did; Changbin had made a clean break just about 3 years ago, and there had been radio silence ever since. Chan didn't believe the other had left the city, though. Actually, he knew the other hadn't. Every so often, while walking home from one of his evening classes, Chan swore he would catch a glimpse of someone decked head to toe in black as they ducked around a corner.</p>
<p>Once, when the night had been quiet and devoid of others, Chan had taken the calculated risk of using his speed while in his civilian clothes. He had made it around the corner in time to see the black-clad figure pulling themselves up the fire escape of an apartment. Chan hadn't been able to say anything, his heart beating out a cautious hope as the figure reached the top of the building and hefted themselves up onto the roof. The figure had turned, then, and locked eyes with Chan, and those eyes had been so familiar that Chan felt his legs weaken.</p>
<p>Chan didn't say anything, and the figure didn't say anything, but Chan could feel the request lingering in the still nighttime air. <em>Don't follow me. Please. I can't, not yet.</em></p>
<p>Chan could've reached the figure – could've reached <em>Changbin</em> – so easily. One jump, and he would've been right up there on the roof alongside him. But Changbin had threaded fear through his statement, and sorrow, and a kind of melancholy that was all too familiar. Chan had been held in place by the dual chains of Changbin's overwhelming guilt and his own. So Chan had stayed rooted in place, and Changbin had let a thin sliver of the love he still felt for them all burrow into the folds of Chan's mind, and then the other was gone. Chan had stayed standing in that same spot for a long, long time afterwards.</p>
<p><em>It's enough to know he's alive</em>, Chan told himself, blinking back into the present and the stack of tests staring him down. <em>It has to be enough.</em> Changbin would come back to them when he was ready; Chan trusted this, trusted him. Changbin allowed himself to be seen, sometimes. More and more this past year, Chan had been catching glimpses of that dark-clothed figure.</p>
<p><em>Maybe Changbin'll make it to Sung's recital</em>, Chan thought as he pulled the first paper from the stack towards himself. If Changbin was keeping tabs on Chan, he was definitely keeping tabs on the others. He was probably well-aware that Jisung had a recital tonight, and that the others (hopefully,<em> please</em>) would be going. Though Chan doubted Changbin would make himself obvious, if he showed up at all that would be a huge step for him. Any of the others showing up would be a huge step.</p>
<p>“Professor Bang?” The quiet voice yanked Chan’s attention away from his internal musing (because, if he was being honest with himself, he had yet to truly pay attention to the tests still in need of grading).</p>
<p>Standing at the door was one of the newer Academy kids. Chan recognized her from his Psychology of the Criminal Mind class , and he thought she might have also been in his Intro English course. Now, if he could just remember her name…</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Shin Yuna? From your Criminal Psych course?”</p>
<p>“Ah, of course, Yuna! Also from Intro English, correct?”</p>
<p>Yuna’s face brightened, and Chan was glad he’d been able to remember that, at least. “Yeah! Sorry to interrupt you, but I had a quick question? It’s not exactly about either of those classes, but I thought you’d be the best person to ask.”</p>
<p>Chan pushed aside the stack of tests. He could grade them tomorrow; with the way things were going today, he’d probably end up mistakenly failing half his students if he tried grading them now. “I’m in office hours right now, so you’re not interrupting at all. What was your question?”</p>
<p>Yuna fidgeted for a bit longer in the doorway before Chan gestured to one of the soft-cushioned chairs in front of his desk. She sank into one with some hesitancy but remained quiet as her hands continued to twist around one-another. Chan let her take her time working up to her question.</p>
<p>Eventually, Yuna spoke, her question tumbling out in one elongated mess of words. “Sorry if this is… wrong? To ask? But you just seemed like one of the most chill professors here and I figured you wouldn’t kick me out if I brought this up and I know I’m pretty new to this Academy and all that but I just wanted to ask why kids with specs even have to enroll in Academies in the first place? I was doing just fine managing my abilities on my own without all of you! Um, no offense.”</p>
<p>Chan took a few moments to digest her question. It was true there were some pretty glaring faults in the Academy system. The way Felix and Jisung had been treated after being unable to continue on a hero path was a fairly obvious one. The subtle manipulation of kids into hero or supporter tracks was another. But, overall, some sort of formal system like the Academies was needed.</p>
<p>Yuna was still staring at him with anticipatory eyes as Chan slowly began to answer. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely?’” She nodded, and he continued. “Well, I like to think there’s a sister phrase to that in ‘uncontrolled power further spirals out of control.’ Specs can be incredibly dangerous things, especially in kids, who have more raw power than adults. Academies help provide an education on shaping that power into something not quite so dangerous.”</p>
<p>“But why the Academy system, specifically?” Yuna’s eyes were piercing. Chan suddenly remembered that her spec was something along the lines of ‘shooting laser beams out of her eyes,’ and hoped he wasn’t about to receive a first-hand demonstration of the same.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s a bit more complicated,” Chan answered, leaning back in his seat. Yuna followed his movement, leaning forward in her chair. Her hands had finally stopped their fiddling.</p>
<p>“The Academy system is more or less engrained into the culture at this point,” Chan elaborated, testing each word out before committing to it. “Is it the only way to help teach kids with specs how to not hurt themselves or others? Probably not. Is it the best way? Up for debate. But it is the way we have now, and we just have to live in it.”</p>
<p>Yuna’s voice had a slight lilt to it when she next spoke. “I thought you told us in our last Psych lecture that no one is incapable of change.”</p>
<p>Chan let out a surprised laugh. “I suppose I did. But wanting change and enacting change are two very different things.”</p>
<p>Yuna’s voice was exceedingly careful when she next spoke. “And do you? Want change, that is.”</p>
<p>“I want what is best for my students, and for all children born with specs.” It was a non-answer, and Chan knew Yuna knew that, but she seemed to accept his words, anyways.</p>
<p>“I guess there’s a lot to think about there, Professor Bang.”</p>
<p>“Good! If I wasn’t making you think, I wouldn’t be much of a professor, now would I?”</p>
<p>She finally cracked a smile. “I guess that’s true! Do you mind if I come back and talk with you more about this later? After I do some thinking of my own?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. Whenever I’m here, my door’s always open, and my email’s in the syllabus if I’m out.”</p>
<p>Yuna offered him a wide grin, standing from the chair and giving him a little salute. “Thanks Professor Bang! I’ll see you in class!”</p>
<p>“See you in class, Yuna.”</p>
<p>Once Yuna had left his office, Chan let out a deep sigh. Yuna was a bright kid, and as she was just entering her teens, she was older than the typical recruit to the Academy. That meant she was already coming into his classroom with more realized ideas about how the world worked, which was great from a personal development perspective, but not so much from a hero development perspective.</p>
<p><em>She’s just about the same age I was when I first got here…</em> With that single thought, Chan was rocketed back to his first couple days at the Academy, when Jisung had stuck to his side like a hyperactive barnacle and Changbin had tried to fight anyone who looked at the three of them funny. Things had only intensified after their little wannabe-superhero crew had met the other five boys who would eventually form Stray Kids with them. But, like with any good steel, the bonds that had formed from that initial fire had been nearly unbreakable. Nearly.</p>
<p><em>Nothing’s irreparable,</em> Chan thought, his gaze wandering as it so often did to the small picture frame tucked away among the clutter of his desk. The picture it displayed had been taken 11 – 12? – years ago and showed Stray Kids outside of Stray Kids. That is, it was the eight of them, without their masks or their costumes, bundled around a long table in a family restaurant, cheeks full and smiles so natural it hurt to look at, just a bit. It was a good kind of ache, though.</p>
<p>He pressed two fingers to the edge of the photo frame where the metal had been burnished to bronze and let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.</p>
<p><em>Soon</em>, he thought. <em>Please, soon.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Hyunjin had gotten the recital invitation from Jeongin, he'd been hesitant to attend. He'd heard from Jeongin sporadically at best over the past couple years, and so any communication between the two of them was still new. But, it was an invitation to attend one of Jisung's recitals, and Hyunjin had been meaning to attend one of those since Jisung had first started having them. He just... hadn't gotten around to it, yet.</p>
<p>There were the classic excuses he could make: he didn't have any free time with managing his own business, he was always so exhausted after watching the kids all day at work, the recitals were just too far away to comfortably make it to one. But, the truth of the matter was Hyunjin was scared. He was scared to see Jisung, but not have Jisung see him. He was scared to run into Chan, or Jeongin, or any of the others outside of maybe Seungmin. Mostly, he was scared that, if he were to meet the others, they'd be strangers to him. He didn't think he could handle that.</p>
<p>But Jeongin hadn't just sent a letter, or a text, or even called. He'd shown up, in person, at Hyunjin's small daycare, dressed in neatly pressed business casual and looking nervous as hell. His words were soft when he extended the offer to Hyunjin, but they were sure.</p>
<p>"I just, I wanted to do this for him?" he'd said, wringing his hands in a nervous tick that was so achingly familiar to Hyunjin. "Plus, I figured it was probably time, you know? Ten years, and all that."</p>
<p>Jeongin had looked at Hyunjin with his achingly familiar eyes, and maybe they didn't know these new versions of each other, but Hyunjin still knew Jeongin, and Jeongin still knew Hyunjin. How could Hyunjin have said no?</p>
<p>So now Hyunjin was standing outside the recital hall, dressed in his second-best suit (because his first-best suit had only ever seen tragedy) and feeling nervous beyond belief. He was at war with himself: he wanted to see the others so badly, and at the same time was hoping to make through the entirety of the concert without seeing any of his former family outside of Jisung center-stage. He wasn't sure which side he wanted to win out.</p>
<p>The decision was made for him, however, when he heard Seungmin's gentle voice.</p>
<p>"Jeongin used The Eyes on you too, huh?"</p>
<p>Hyunjin turned towards Seungmin with a rueful "yup," mouth forming an involuntary grin before he could help it.</p>
<p>“Oh! You’re back to black hair,” Seungmin added, nodding slightly at Hyunjin’s head.</p>
<p>“I figured it was a bit more respectful than the pink, given the occasion. And I can always change it back later, for the kids.”</p>
<p>“A Chameleon can always change his colors,” Seungmin said, and they both grinned. Hyunjin was beyond grateful that it was Seungmin he had encountered first this evening. He was sure encountering any of the others first would have been excruciatingly awkward.</p>
<p>Hyunjin and Seungmin had tenuously reformed their friendship in recent years. Seungmin worked in the branch of the Investigative Agency that oversaw the bureau where Hyunjin lived and worked. A couple of those in Seungmin's branch had kids that attended Hyunjin's daycare, and so Hyunjin would occasionally see Seungmin when he volunteered to pick one of those kids up, or drop them off.</p>
<p>The first couple times they’d met had been nearly suffocating. Each had been trying their best to memorize these new versions of each other – full grown and civilian – while frantically avoiding eye contact. It got easier, though. The more Seungmin visited, the more whatever knot was held in Hyunjin’s heart loosened, and eventually they could hold a conversation for longer than a couple stilted minutes.</p>
<p>It had been nice. It <em>was</em> nice, to get to talk to one of them again. It was nearly ten years later, and god damn it, Hyunjin missed his team. He missed them so badly it hurt, sometimes, and now Seungmin was standing before him and Jisung was just inside that building, and maybe so was Jeongin, and maybe so was Chan, and maybe so were all the faces save one he’d been aching for over the years.</p>
<p>Before he could help it, Hyunjin was asking Seungmin, “Do you think Changbin will show?”</p>
<p>Seungmin’s surprise at the question was evident on his face, and Hyunjin almost wished he could snatch his words back out of the air. Too late for that now, though, so Hyunjin stood with breath loosely held, hoping he hadn’t just set them back a full step in this new relation to one another.</p>
<p>Eventually, Seungmin spoke. “I’d like him too.”</p>
<p>It was an admission previously held close to the chest, and a little more of the wall between them came crumbling down. Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat for an entirely different reason.</p>
<p>“Me too,” Hyunjin said, and if his voice was a little hoarse, hopefully Seungmin would pay it no mind.</p>
<p>They stood there, smiling their small, private smiles at each other for another collection of moments before Seungmin eventually broke their little bubble. “Should we head in?”</p>
<p>“Probably,” Hyunjin let the small moment pass with some remorse. He sent a silent wish out into the universe that this would be the first of many more such moments to come.</p>
<p>“What seat are you?” Hyunjin asked as they both set out for the entrance to the concert hall.</p>
<p>“I’m 10C. You?”</p>
<p>“…10B.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin stared at Seungmin, and Seungmin stared at Hyunjin, and, inevitably, Hyunjin was the first to crack.</p>
<p>He broke down into small giggles. “This is Jeongin’s doing, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Seungmin, too, was laughing lightly. “Who else could it be? Our little firecracker does what he wants.”</p>
<p>“He does.” They lapsed back into silence after that, but it was comfortable. It was familiar.</p>
<p>As they moved through the queue and towards the woman scanning tickets at the entrance, Hyunjin was struck with the sudden realization that it was likely that Jeongin had maneuvered all their seats to fit the same row. It wouldn’t just be him, and Seungmin. It would be <em>all</em> of them.</p>
<p><em>Once he makes up his mind, he goes for it,</em> Hyunjin thought. That, at least, hadn’t changed.</p>
<p>Sure enough, seated in the middle of row 10 – <em>A handicap-accessible row,</em> Hyunjin noticed, <em>Innie remembered for Lix</em> – was a familiar curly-haired man.</p>
<p>“Chan,” Hyunjin said, and he turned at his name.</p>
<p>“Hyunjin! Seungmin! You made it!” His smile was just as brilliant as Hyunjin remembered, twin dimples deep and full of joy. He hurt to look at, just a bit.</p>
<p>Chan hadn’t let Hyunjin go, after The End. He hadn’t let any of them go; he had held onto them as best as he could, and even when they had clawed and scratched their way out of his arms, he had continued to reach out. Hyunjin had a box full of Chan’s hand-written notes, collected over the years. Every time, he’d been too terrified to write back.</p>
<p>And now here Chan was, smiling and him and Seungmin like nothing had changed, like they were still his boys and he was still their stalwart captain and they were moments away from another Academy-assigned mission.</p>
<p>Seungmin was quicker than Hyunjin to recover, sliding into seat 10C, one down from Chan’s. “Can’t exactly say no to Jeongin, even now.”</p>
<p>“Very true!” Chan laughed, and it sounded a little sad to Hyunjin.</p>
<p>Hyunjin forced himself to speak through whatever odd mood had settled over him, sliding into the seat next to Seungmin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Jeongin’s had some sort of manipulation-based spec.”</p>
<p>Seungmin snorted. “I think he might have actually taken over the world by this point if that was the case. We’d all be living in New Innie City.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin was startled into laughter, bright and loud, and it felt <em>good</em>. It felt better when Chan laughed too, and when Seungmin allowed himself to smile at his own joke.</p>
<p>“I heard my name!”</p>
<p><em>Speak of the devil,</em> Hyunjin thought as Jeongin himself bounded up to their aisle, looking sharp and mature in a navy-blue suit. When his eyes crinkled up into crescents, though, Hyunjin could see the traces of the brace-faced boy he had known so well nearly a decade prior.</p>
<p>Jeongin was trailed by two equally strange and familiar men. Minho’s smile hadn’t changed despite the years, still curled at the ends and endearingly flippant. Felix’s face was still dotted with freckles, and his eye were still the kindest Hyunjin had ever seen.</p>
<p>“Hi strangers,” Minho drawled, helping Felix maneuver his wheelchair into the handicap spot at the end of the row before settling down beside him.</p>
<p>“Hi everyone!” Felix added, eyes shining and voice somehow, impossibly, even deeper than Hyunjin remembered. Hyunjin murmured a greeting in return alongside Seungmin and Chan.</p>
<p>Just like that, six of the eight had gathered. There was still an empty seat at the end of their aisle: 10A. Changbin’s. But Hyunjin pushed that bitterness aside to focus on the men who were here. Six out of eight was more of former superhero team Stray Kids than had ever been in one spot in the past nine and a half years. After that realization, Hyunjin, not for the first time that evening, felt a bit like crying.</p>
<p>“How many of you have heard Jisung play before?” Chan asked. Like always, he was taking charge, steering the conversation in a safe direction.</p>
<p>“I have! He’s amazing,” Felix said, every word dripping pride.</p>
<p>“He is!” Chan responded, just as much pride in his simple statement.</p>
<p>Jeongin nodded eagerly and was opening his mouth to speak when the house lights began to dim. His mouth snapped shut with an audible “click!” and Hyunjin couldn’t cover up his involuntary snort at the sound. Seungmin sent him an exasperated look, and it was so <em>Seungmin</em>, and then the concert hall was growing silent as a single spotlight lit up the center of the stage.</p>
<p>A moment later, Jisung emerged, cane lightly sweeping in front of him as he took sure steps towards center stage. He looked so small when seated, just him and the grand piano, and Hyunjin felt his heart twist. Why had he never come to one of these recitals before? Why had he never written Chan back? Why had it taken them so long to get to this point?</p>
<p>Then, Jisung pressed his fingers lightly on the keys, and the note sang through the hall high and sweet, and Hyunjin let himself stop thinking. For now, he would just exist, surrounded by those he swore he would not let go of so easily this time around.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rising Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone, and welcome back to Angst Central! Although actually I don't think this chapter is quite as bittersweet as the last one? Hopefully not! This is a shorter chapter, but y'all finally get a little peek into Changbin's POV in all this, so enjoy!</p><p>Just as a reminder, "spec" is the term used in this fic for superpowers, and the IA or Investigative Agency is a more advanced detective agency which generally takes on the smaller cases that the Superhero Agencies can't be bothered to handle; specific branches of the IA also specialize in solving crimes.</p><p>(CW for descriptions of a dead body; nothing super graphic, but stay safe!)</p><p>Also!! The amazing Kanika aka standsinthetrees made a playlist for this fic!! You can find it <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0mnSqeEy2yqZLsYcuynZBR?si=2EWazMw3R6KGACbD0dW9rg">here</a>; it's pop-punk and very good!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Changbin hadn’t been able to get Jisung’s encore piece out of his head. It had been three days since he’d charmed his way into the other’s recital, and his brain had been looping the soft piano melody ever since. Maybe it was the chords, or the emotion pressed into every note that had caused the song to earworm its way into Changbin’s core. Maybe it was the familiarity.</p><p>Back before Changbin had left, before Stray Kids disbanded, before even 3RACHA was a thing – back when Jisung was known to him only as the boy from the music club who used his melodies to speak in lieu of his voice – Jisung had composed a short song. He’d titled it “Changbin’s Piece,” and he’d scribbled down that these were the notes that came to mind when he thought of Changbin. It had been an unfinished piece, back then, full of hesitant chords and haltering runs. Now, Changbin thought Jisung might have completed it. He though Jisung might’ve played it the night of his recital, for him.</p><p>There was no way to be certain, of course. Changbin had stuck to the back of the concert hall, and he had slipped out before Jisung had even stood to give his final bow. But still; Changbin wouldn’t put it past the other boy to have sensed him there, regardless. And he <em>had</em> played that song…</p><p><em>Not now,</em> Changbin thought, giving his head a light shake. He was currently perched on the edge of a rather narrow balcony, and it wasn’t exactly the best position to let himself get distracted. He was on one of his nightly patrols, and he needed to focus.</p><p>He hadn’t used to do nightly patrols. His day job was exhausting enough as is, but there had been something… wrong, recently. Changbin didn’t know how else to put it. He liked to think he had a pretty good feel for the emotional pulse of the city – came with his spec, and all – and things had been still, lately, and tensed. A coil ready to spring. A city ready to burn.</p><p>He stuck his head out a little farther into the humid air of the night. He had tried to place himself as high up as possible to get a feel for the emotions swirling around him, but he could only track the threads of <em>lust</em> and <em>worry</em> and <em>joy</em> and <em>fear</em> so far before they– <em>Wait.</em></p><p>Changbin focused on the emotion of <em>fear</em>, picking up more and more details as his attention shifted. It was faint, likely on the periphery of what he could sense, but even in that state it was nearly overpowering. This wasn’t the pre-recital fear he had gotten off Jisung three days ago, or the fear of screwing up their long-awaited meeting that the other six of his former teammates had been feeling. No, this fear was intense. This fear was life or death.</p><p>Half a second later Changbin was moving, swinging himself off the balcony and down the fire escape before hitting the ground running. The fear grew stronger as he ran, both because he was headed in its direction and because whoever was the owner of the emotion was, somehow, growing even more terrified. Then the fear cut out completely.</p><p>“Fuck!” Changbin growled, stumbling to a stop in the middle of a side street as the sense completely left him. He knew what it meant when an emotion vanished like that.</p><p><em>Maybe I can still get them help</em>, he thought desperately, renewing his sprint with a nearly mad fervency to his movements. The rational part of his brain argued at him that he knew better, but he ignored that part and focused all his energy on getting his legs to move faster. If only he had Chan’s spec…</p><p>When he hit the point from which the fear response had originated, Changbin was met with a heavy, metallic smell emanating from within a dark alleyway.</p><p>“Fuck,” he cursed again, taking a moment to catch his breath. One more deep inhale, and Changbin stepped into the alley. It took a little bit for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, he felt his heart catch in the back of his throat. He took a moment, eyes fluttering closed, to send a wish skyward for peace to come to this soul. Then he opened his eyes and began his analysis of the scene before him.</p><p>There, in the middle of the alley, lay a body. It was still, and its head was haloed in a dark substance, and there were absolutely no emotions coming off it. There was no bringing them back.</p><p>With another deep breath, Changbin straightened his gloves, adjusted his face mask, and approached the body. He cautiously reached a hand towards the neck to feel for a pulse, just in case. He knew it was futile. He didn’t care.</p><p>The body was still warm, Changbin noted with some surprise. He knew it would be, logically; whoever did this hadn’t left all that long ago. But he was still surprised; that a body could be this warm yet lie this still.</p><p>He was torn between two desires: he could take off now and try to catch the culprit, or he could stay at the scene and try to parcel out evidence before the IA arrived and inevitably screwed everything up. He was still trying to decide which route to take when he heard a choked sound from behind him.</p><p>Changbin stood quickly, pivoting in place to meet the wide eyes of a girl. She was still in her school uniform despite the late hour, knuckles turning white where she was gripping her school bag. Changbin figured he had maybe a second or so until she started screaming.</p><p>“You’re alright,” he told her, and his words were soft. He slipped something around his words – something calming, something drowsy, something carefree – and he watched it take hold in the back of her eyes as they grew half-lidded and dumb.</p><p>“You’re alright,” he continued, hands outstretched as he kept feeding her calming emotions. “You’re alright, you’re just fine. There’s nothing alarming here; there’s nothing scary. You didn’t see anything scary, actually. There was just a cat – just a stray cat, and wasn’t it cute, after you got over your fright? Just a cute, stray cat, and a stranger trying to pet it. That’s all. That’s all it was.”</p><p>The girl’s eyes were unfocused, and Changbin gently turned her away from the alleyway with the body lying prone. He pushed her, lightly, back into the street, and he was about to let her go when he hesitated. It was still dark out, and there was overwhelming evidence of the danger present in this city still bleeding onto the asphalt behind him.</p><p>“Where do you live?” Changbin asked. He was relieved when the girl pointed to an apartment complex a few blocks down the street with a mumbled “over there.”</p><p>“Good, that’s good.” Changbin was still funneling every calming emotion he could name into the girl, along with a bit of humor he hoped she would equate with his imaginary alley cat story. “I need you to head straight home, okay? And remember: you just saw a stray cat, and a stranger, and it was a bit funny, but overall it was fine. You are fine.”</p><p>“I am fine,” the girl repeated after him, her words sluggish and tangling together. Changbin gave her another gentle push, and then she was stumbling off towards her home, steps growing surer as she went.</p><p>Changbin hated doing this. He hated tampering with emotional memories, but he couldn’t deny that he had grown rather good at it. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice; the girl would have freaked out and put herself, or Changbin, or both in danger. And Changbin couldn’t keep her safe in this scenario when he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening himself.</p><p>He ran a gloved hand over his facemask, sighing heavily through the fabric, before turning back to the body. It looked like his earlier dilemma had been decided for him. He would stay here as long as he could, and then he would leave an anonymous tip for the IA. With this decided, Changbin stepped back towards the body half-hidden in the alleyway. <em>Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.</em></p><p>The first thing he noticed was the lack of blood. When he’d first seen the body, his eyes had been instantly drawn to the puddle of red pooling beneath the thick hair of the dead man. Upon closer inspection, there really wasn’t that much there. Not as much as there should have been if he’d been killed by a head wound. Changbin crouched down. At this vantage point, he could see the streaks of browning red nestled in the corners of the body’s mouth. With careful hands, Changbin pried open the mouth, thumb and forefinger straining against the very beginnings of rigor mortis. The tongue was absent.</p><p>“Fuck,” Changbin cursed again under his breath. Mutilation of a body meant this wasn’t some random mugging gone wrong. The tongue had been removed for a reason, if he could just figure out <em>why</em>…</p><p>He continued working his way down the body. Other than the missing tongue, the body was otherwise free of wounds. The wallet was missing, Changbin noticed with some surprise. He’d already determined this wasn’t a straight-forward robbery, so why go through the trouble of taking the wallet? It wasn’t like whoever had done this was trying to leave an anonymous body. There was no external mutilation to the face, no removal of the fingertips.</p><p>Actually, as Changbin looked closer at the body, a sensation of déjà vu started to arise. There was something bothering him about the corpse, that feeling growing stronger and stronger the longer he stared at its sunken face. A moment later, it clicked.</p><p>
  <em>Banshee.</em>
</p><p>He hadn’t been a super well-known hero, but Changbin had liked to keep himself up to date with all the players currently in the game. Banshee had been signed under a smaller Agency – Changbin couldn’t for the life of him remember the name – and had stuck to mostly minor hero jobs. His spec had been a minor form of vocal manipulation (<em>Just like Jisung</em>, Changbin thought, before he quickly smashed the implications of that thought to bits), and now he was dead, and someone had cut out his tongue. That couldn’t be a coincidence.</p><p>Before Changbin could try to further parse out what this could mean, a heart-wrenchingly familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.</p><p>“Changbin?”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>"Changbin?" Seungmin's voice shook despite his best efforts. The other man whipped around, and even with a mask covering half his face, Seungmin would have recognized him anywhere.</p><p>He was older, of course. His face was fuller, and his eyes were hardened and tired. His hair was shorter, and he no longer had the distinctive undercut he’d sported as Haywire. Still, he was familiar – so achingly familiar.</p><p>"Changbin," Seungmin said again, because he could, and the other man held his gaze.</p><p>"Seungmin," Changbin said, and his voice hadn't changed, still sweet and low and careful.</p><p><em>This isn’t actually happening</em>, Seungmin reasoned. He was hallucinating due to too little sleep, probably, or he had been shot in the line of duty, or he had been taken captive by hostiles and was suffering a drug-induced psychotic break. Anything was more plausible than Changbin being here, before his eyes, and not running away.</p><p>"You're not running," Seungmin said, and maybe if he was a different person he would've regretted his word choice, but this was how he had always been. Although Seungmin couldn't see his mouth, by the way Changbin's eyes had softened, he assumed the other's lips were quirked in that small, familiar manner. This was how Seungmin had always been, and Changbin knew this.</p><p>"Should I?" Changbin asked, and his voice was just shy of teasing, and Seungmin was definitely hallucinating. There was no other way to explain Changbin – this Changbin, <em>his</em> Changbin – standing in front of him.</p><p>"You've always run before," Seungmin said, and he couldn't help the bluntness, couldn't help how years of no contact and no clue how the other was faring had bled into his voice. This was how Seungmin had always been, too. He had been responsible for their team in a way that not even Chan or Minho had been: he had been their shield, the one supposed to stand between them and all harm, skin strengthening into something impenetrable to take the brunt of the blows. And maybe he had failed at that, but at least he hadn't run away. Not fully, at any rate.</p><p>Changbin's eyes had hardened back to their former coldness at Seungmin's words. Something soft shrank back into Seungmin's core, and he felt the tips of his fingers hardening on instinct.</p><p><em>Alright then</em>, Seungmin thought. <em>This is easier, anyways.</em></p><p>"Why are you here?" Seungmin asked, and he was using his officer voice, the one he brought out for interrogations or belligerent witnesses. Changbin noticed, of course he did, and his eyes closed off even further.</p><p>"Probably for the same reason you're here," he replied.</p><p>"Oh, so you've finally decided to uphold the law instead of constantly breaking it?"</p><p>"You and I both know why I do what I do."</p><p>It was true. When Changbin had first fallen off the grid, Seungmin had spent days – weeks, if he was being honest – wrestling with himself, with the idea that maybe he should pursue a vigilante path, too. He had been relatively new in the Investigative Agency, barely graduated from traffic shifts and walkabouts and still not helping in the way he knew he could – in the way he <em>needed</em>. When Changbin had left, he hadn’t said where he was going, but Seungmin knew he wouldn’t leave the city. He couldn’t; not while the rest of them were there. It was the same reason Seungmin knew that he himself couldn’t leave the city. His heart was held here by seven others, and in turn he carried pieces of each of the others with him.</p><p>Eventually, Seungmin had made peace with remaining on the force. With that peace came a renewed determination, and he threw himself fully into any and every case thrown his way. In two short years, he was made Detective; the youngest in his branch and one of the youngest in the whole IA. It still hadn’t been enough, and some little part of Seungmin had doubted it every would be. It would never be heroing; it would never be <em>Stray Kids</em>. But Seungmin had made it work.</p><p>And he had made the best of the situation, really, he had, until three nights ago when he had met the team again, <em>his</em> team, and he had been near-bowled over with the realization that detective work would never be enough for him. And now here he was, standing face-to-face with Changbin, that final piece of the puzzle, and it was suddenly all far too much, far too fast.</p><p>Seungmin yanked his gaze down to the face of the body. The body was neutral territory, something both Seungmin and Changbin could discuss without anything else getting in the way. Hopefully.</p><p>Actually, now that he was paying attention, there was something about that face that was pinging some half-formed memory in the back of Seungmin’s mind.</p><p>“…Why does he look so familiar,” Seungmin murmured to himself. He hadn’t meant for Changbin to hear him, but the other did anyway, answering his-not-quite question in a voice far softer than how he’d been speaking previously.</p><p>“It’s Banshee.”</p><p>“Banshee?” Seungmin repeated, peering a bit closer at the body.</p><p>Changbin was right; it was indeed Banshee lying cold and still on the dark asphalt. Or, well, it was Banshee’s civilian personality; a person Seungmin had never known but still felt himself aching for, regardless.</p><p>“They took his tongue,” Changbin continued, and something fell heavy to the bottom of Seungmin’s stomach. Banshee was – <em>had</em> <em>been</em> – a vocal-based hero. His tongue had literally been his livelihood, and someone had sliced it clean out of his mouth.</p><p>Seungmin crouched down next to the body, prying the stiff mouth open with gloved fingers. Sure enough, the tongue was gone, the space where it should have been clotted with dark blood. But…</p><p>“The tongue was removed post-mortem,” Seungmin said, rising to his full height once more. Changbin quirked an eyebrow at him, and Seungmin continued, “there’s not enough blood present in the oral cavity to indicate that the tongue was taken while the victim was living. Even if most of it had slid back down the esophagus, or the larynx, the oral cavity is still too… clean.”</p><p>“So this was purposeful, then,” Changbin said, and his tone suggested he was confirming the idea with himself more than simply postulating.</p><p>“This was targeted,” Seungmin agreed, and he met Changbin’s gaze without hostility, or remorse, or betrayal. Suddenly, it was a decade prior, and they were two kids working a case together once more. There was trust in Changbin’s eyes, and fear – not for himself, but for the others. Seungmin knew his gaze mirrored those emotions.</p><p>Then, the sound of sirens broke whatever trance the two of them had fallen into.</p><p>“You should head out before they actually arrive,” Seungmin said, tilting his head vaguely in the direction the sirens were coming from. “You’re not exactly a legal persona, Whispers.”</p><p>The name felt wrong on his tongue. He was Changbin, and he had been Haywire, before, and Seungmin had known them both. He didn’t know Whispers. But, maybe, Changbin would give him a chance to learn.</p><p>The small smile dancing around Changbin’s eyes as he adjusted his mask lent fuel to the small flicker of hope in Seungmin’s core. “Oh, I’d be fine. Might ruin your perfectly legal career choice to be seen standing over a body with me, though.”</p><p>Seungmin snorted. “Just get out of here before I have to fake-arrest you.”</p><p>“Aye-aye Detective Kim!” Changbin gave him a mock salute, the laugh-lines around his eyes fully visible now. Seungmin found himself inexplicably grateful for those small marks of humanity on the other man’s face. Before he could second guess himself – before Changbin could run away again – Seungmin called out.</p><p>“Wait!” Changbin looked over his shoulder at the sound of his voice, eyebrows raised and body still turned to disappear further into the alleyway. Seungmin fished one of his business cards out of his pocket, quickly uncapping a pen and scribbling his personal number onto the back. He held it out to Changbin. “Here.”</p><p>Changbin took it, tucking it into his breast pocket as his eyes softened into that familiar gaze. Seungmin found his throat clenching around nothing, but he forced himself to speak regardless.</p><p>“Keep me updated on your end, and I’ll do the same on mine. Something’s going on, something bigger than just this.”</p><p>Changbin gave him a sharp nod before the hard thing slithered back into his eyes and he turned away from Seungmin, darting into the alleyway. He was gone a second later, and Seungmin prayed with every fiber of his being that he would see the other man again.</p><p><em>Soon</em>, the little soft thing inside of Seungmin whispered. <em>Please, soon</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Little by little, the team is starting to be drawn back together! And the whole plot of this fic is starting, that's also a thing that's happening lol. I'll keep unraveling the characters, their backstories, and their specs as we go, so hopefully y'all are enjoying the slow build!</p><p>As always, please remember to take care of yourselves mentally and physically, wash your hands, wear your mask, tell your friends/family you love them, support social justice movements, and be kind to yourselves! I'll see you all in 2 or so weeks where the plot will undoubtedly thicken!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Building Tension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: I'll update every two weeks!<br/>Me two updates later, stumbling into the fic weeks late with starbucks: lol whats up guys</p><p>No but seriously, thank you for your patience with the updates! I've got a couple fics simmering away on the stove; this one, the Jarem, and a new installment of the Leverage AU series! I really do like have multiple projects to work on, and I think it helps be keep fresh on each individual storyline, but it also means that the updates for each one take a bit longer. So, thank you again for being patient with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Surprisingly enough, Chan heard about the dead hero from Seungmin. It was early on a Wednesday morning, around half a week since Chan had seen the other man in person for the first time in years, when Seungmin sent him the following text:</p><p>
  <em>Hey Chan. Don't know if you still have my number but it's Seungmin.</em>
</p><p>(Chan still had his number. He still had all their numbers.)</p><p>
  <em>Just wanted to let you know that there was a hero killed last night while in plain clothes. Likely targeted. Don't want to say anything else over text but be careful. Keep an eye on Jeongin especially. Pretty sure if I reached out he'd dismiss everything I said outright but I think he listens to you. I hope he listens to you. Keep me informed on your end if you can and I'll keep you informed on mine. Maybe we can meet up in a couple days to swap notes in person? Let me know.</em>
</p><p>Then Seungmin sent him another text, one that pierced straight into Chan's heart:</p><p>
  <em>Oh. Saw Changbin last night at the scene. He's doing well. We’re gonna work this together.</em>
</p><p>Seungmin had seen Changbin. And, apparently, Changbin hadn't run. That meant something, right? It had to mean something. The night of the recital had been so odd and yet so comforting, for him and for the rest of his former team, but they had all known something – some<em>one</em> – had been missing.</p><p><em>I could see them, all of them, again!</em> The thought rose in Chan unbidden and unbridled and full of a kind of hope that threatened to choke him. Then Chan remembered the reason Changbin hadn't run from Seungmin, and the feeling simmered down inside his chest.</p><p>Hero killings were rare, but not unheard of. However, they tended to happen when the superhero was being, well, a superhero. From Seungmin's message, the murdered hero had been wearing everyday clothes and not engaged in any hero work. Yet, they had apparently been specifically sought out and killed.</p><p><em>Why?</em> If someone wanted to kill a superhero, surely it would be easier to do it in the middle of a hero's work. The perpetrator could even stage it as an accident! But to kill a hero in plain clothes… <em>It doesn't add up.</em></p><p>"You're thinking too loud." Jisung's quiet voice broke into Chan's ruminations. When he looked up, he saw the other taking slow, measured steps out of his bedroom and into their small dining room. Sleep was very obviously still clinging to him, and Chan was a little surprised he was up so early.</p><p>"I didn't know you were a mind reader as well as a songbird!" Chan joked, keeping his voice purposefully light and teasing.</p><p>The frown stayed solidly in place on Jisung's face. "Chan. You're deflecting."</p><p>There were a few tense moments as the silence stretched between them, and then Chan wilted back into his chair. "I can't keep anything from you, huh?"</p><p>"Nope!" Jisung popped the p. A small smile worked its way onto his face as he settled into the chair next to Chan. "We're fifteen years too late for that! Now spill; what's got you so serious so early?"</p><p>For a brief moment, Chan considered bending the truth. He could say he was worried about the more intense missions the Agency had been giving Jeongin, or that there had been an uptick in hero-grade crime recently that was stressing him out. He gave up on those thoughts fairly quickly, though. He was pretty sure Jisung would be well aware of any attempt Chan made to try to hide information from him.</p><p>In the first year or so after Jisung's sight was taken, Chan had been overprotective. Actually, “overprotective” was putting it lightly. He had become involved in absolutely every aspect of all his boys' lives, but he had paid particular attention to Jisung, Felix, and Minho given their lingering injuries from their last fight as Stray Kids. At the same time, Chan had tried to keep his own inner demons from popping their ugly heads out and worrying the others. That constant state of vigilance paired with his chronic internal repression had led to some pretty poor executive functioning, eventually manifesting in a total lack of regard for privacy. Chan had been worst around Jisung, though, because he lived with the other and the line between personal and professional was nonexistent.</p><p>Eventually, Jisung had hit his breaking point. He’d yelled at Chan about the other’s suffocating hovering, his hypocritical behavior, and his inability to move on. Then Jisung had left, pushing his way out of their apartment and into the city with no guide and no sight and a thousand and one things that could go wrong. It had been Changbin who forced Chan to stay at the apartment – to stay back – and who had gone out to find Jisung, following the other's strong emotional state with ease. Changbin had brought Jisung back and they'd talked; all three of them, first, and then all eight. After that, things had been not quite okay, but better.</p><p>Chan had done his best to manage his more irrational fears concerning the others, and they in turn had allowed for some concessions in their response to Chan’s behavior. Most of them had still drifted, despite Chan’s best efforts, but at least it hadn’t been done with open hostility. Chan wasn’t sure if that slow drift had been more painful than Jisung’s brief but aggressive outburst, or Changbin’s sudden departure.</p><p>“Chan, c’mon, just tell me what’s up. No kiddie gloves, remember?” Jisung broke Chan out of his contemplation, and Chan made his decision.</p><p>“A hero was killed last night.”</p><p>Like Jisung had pointed out earlier, they were fifteen years past Chan being able to bullshit Jisung. And really, when it came down to it, Chan couldn’t lie. Not outright, not to Jisung, or to any of the others. His heart was on his sleeve for them. Always would be.</p><p>“Okay…?” Jisung trailed off, question evident in his voice. “Did Jeongin tell you, or…?”</p><p>“Seungmin, actually.”</p><p>“Seungmin texted you?” Jisung’s voice jumped in pitch, and he leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of his seat. Chan’s mind took the opportunity to superimpose a much younger Jisung onto the man in front of him, leaning forward in that exact same eager way with eyes wide and sparkling. Chan blinked, and Jisung was still leaning towards him, but his eyes were covered by their customary strip of thick ribbon. Today’s ribbon was a deep purple with scalloped edges; Jisung’s favorite.</p><p>“He did. He let me know that a dead hero was found last night, in civilian clothes. He said it was ‘targeted,’ whatever that means. But you know Seungmin. I’m sure he’s working a million and one angles already.”</p><p>“Seungmin texted you!” Jisung repeated, because of course that was the detail he would fixate on. Not the murdered hero, not the targeted nature of the crime, but that detail, that brief moment of contact between two of his estranged teammates. If Chan had been in Jisung’s position, he was sure he’d have focused on the same bit himself.</p><p>“There’s more. Seungmin met Changbin at the crime scene. I think they’re going to work on the case together, if there even ends up being a case in the first place.”</p><p>Jisung had begun to lean even further towards Chan when the other resumed speaking, but at the mention of Changbin’s name, he froze.</p><p>“Chang…bin?” It was the barest hint of a whisper. Jisung slowly settled back into his chair, his voice taught with something Chan felt echoed in his own chest.</p><p>“Changbin,” Chan confirmed.</p><p>“Do you think…?” Jisung didn’t finish the question, but Chan knew what he wanted to ask regardless.</p><p><em>Do you think Changbin might come back?</em> The thought had been bouncing around the back of Chan’s head since reading that most recent text from Seungmin. It was a possibility so tantalizing and so wished for that Chan was beyond terrified to allow himself this hope. <em>But maybe…</em></p><p>“I dunno, Jisung.”</p><p>“You want him to come back though, right? He’d have a place here?” The hesitance in Jisung’s words just about split Chan’s heart in two.</p><p>“Of course he would. He always has.” <em>All of them have</em>, Chan mentally tacked on.</p><p>“Good. I want him to come back, too.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the faint birdsong and the sounds of the city waking up. Then, Chan spoke.</p><p>“Why are you up so early, anyways?”</p><p>“Ah, um, y’know. Just didn’t sleep well.”</p><p>That was Jisung’s way of saying he’d had another night terror. They were rarer, ten years down the line, but not entirely resolved. Chan nudged one of his hands into Jisung’s, and the other accepted it with a small smile. Jisung didn’t ever talk about what his night terrors consisted of, but Chan could take an educated guess based off the things Jisung would mumble during his most disturbed patterns of sleep.</p><p>“Want me to make you some chamomile?”</p><p>Jisung nodded, and Chan gently extracted his hand and moved to the kitchen to start the water boiling.</p><p>“Chan?” Chan hummed in response. “Who was the hero? Who was killed, I mean.”</p><p>Chan’s hands paused midway through reaching into the cupboard for a tea satchel. “Huh. I actually don’t know, Seungmin didn’t text me the name. I think he wants to keep most of this stuff off any kind of record.”</p><p>“Sounds like Seungmin,” Jisung said with a chuckle. “Cautious to a fault.”</p><p>“It’s his job, I guess.” Chan didn’t specify which job that was, exactly: Chief Inspector Kim Seungmin’s, or former defense-based hero Safeguard’s. At this point, there was really only one answer left.</p><p>A few more moments passed with slow bouts of mindless chatter and the quiet hum of the tea kettle. It was comforting, having Jisung present for what was normally a solo morning routine. Chan liked knowing where the other was, liked having that concrete proof that he was alive and well.</p><p><em>Maybe I can convince Jeongin to move in down the road.</em> The thought fluttered through his brain quietly, and Chan tucked it away for another day. The rekindling of his relationship with Jeongin was still far too fresh for any kind of boat-rocking query such as that.</p><p>“What about Jeongin?” Jisung suddenly spoke. Chan was starting to seriously reconsider his throwaway “Jisung Is Secretly a Mind Reader” theory when the other continued, “I mean, Jeongin is working as a hero, right? And a hero was killed?”</p><p>Jisung was trying very, very hard to sound nonchalant, but Chan heard the tightening of his voice and could see the way one blunt nail was ever so slightly scratching at the worn wood of the dining table. Just as Chan found it near impossible to keep things from Jisung, the other was just as much an open book to Chan.</p><p>“I’m going to talk to him about all this today, and I’ll keep an eye on him. Seungmin actually asked me to, but I would’ve regardless. I’m also going to send notes to the others, if Seungmin hasn’t already. Just… just in case.”</p><p>Jisung’s finger slowed its scratching as Chan spoke, and the slight pull of his eyebrows relaxed. “Good. That’s… that’s good, yeah. Good.”</p><p>The sharp whistle of the kettle broke the heavy silence. Chan quickly poured a light chamomile for Jisung and a darker Earl Grey for himself, bringing the steaming mugs to the table and settling once more at the seat beside Jisung. Neither one of them was particularly keen about eating first thing after waking, but maybe Chan would make them some pancakes, later. He had some time to kill before his first class, and it felt like a pancakes sort of morning.</p><p>“You should be careful too,” Jisung said suddenly. He was staring straight ahead, very intentionally not looking at the space where Chan knew Jisung had heard him sit. “Because you might forget to, but you should. Be careful. Please.”</p><p>“Okay, Jisung,” Chan said, bringing his mug up to his face to pretend like it was the steam rising off his freshly boiled tea that was wetting his lashes. “Yeah, okay. I will.”</p><p>“Promise?” Jisung placed his hand palm-up on the table.</p><p>Chan knocked his knuckles gently into Jisung’s open palm, once, twice, eight times, slow and deliberate. “Promise.”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Seungmin spent every spare minute of the week following Banshee’s murder pouring through everything he could find on the dead hero. He had already known that Banshee was a vocal-based hero (<em>like Jisung</em>), but he learned that Kim Hyojoon – the man behind the mask – had hailed from Incheon (<em>like Jisung</em>) and had worked in the music industry (<em>like Ji- Seungmin don’t do this to yourself</em>). More specifically, he learned that Kim Hyojoon had primarily worked as a vocal coach but would take on heroing jobs when asked. He was most often called in to situations where volume was needed, as his spec had centered around boosting soundwaves to near-deafening states. (Jisung had been able to shift the pitch and tone of his own voice to mimic different sounds, in addition to throwing his voice to act as a lure or as a distraction. Seungmin wondered if he would’ve eventually learned to amplify the volume of his voice in a manner similar to Banshee, had Jisung remained their Mockingbird.) (<em>Had Stray Kids remained Stray Kids.</em>)</p><p>At the conclusion of his research, Seungmin had learned that Kim Hyojoon aka Banshee a) seemed to be a generally decent person and hero and b) didn’t pose much of a threat to anyone outside of minor criminals. And yet Banshee had been murdered, and Seungmin was no closer to figuring out why.</p><p>With a huff, Seungmin pushed the small pile of papers to the corner of his desk, leaning back in his chair to stare at the water-damaged ceiling of his shitty one-bedroom apartment. All his research, and he still felt like he hadn’t even left the starting line. There were too many things about this case that made no sense; too many unknowns, too many moving pieces.</p><p>At least he wasn't working this alone. Yes, the IA had assigned Inspectors to the case – Seungmin himself hadn't been assigned due to a "conflict of interest" (read: they didn't think a hero, even a former one, could work a dead hero case without getting emotionally involved) though he was damn sure still working the case anyways – but Seungmin didn't trust the IA to do as thorough a job as he'd like. He did trust Changbin.</p><p>That said, Seungmin had yet to actually meet up with Changbin. There had been an anxiety-inducing twelve or so hours after stumbling upon the other at the crime scene where Seungmin had waited for Changbin to text. The first hour passed without any communication, and then the second hour, and then many more hours following. Seungmin hadn't slept, that night. Then, at around 8 am, he'd received the following text:</p><p>
  <em>Emotion trace went cold. Looking into other avenues. Reconvene in a week to swap notes?</em>
</p><p>Seungmin hadn't been entirely certain what "emotion trace" could mean. Changbin had always been able to track strong emotions, but they’d had to be active for him to follow it. From the wording, it sounded like Changbin might be able to track lingering traces of strong emotions, now. Or, perhaps he could follow a specific person’s emotional signature, whether or not they were experiencing strong emotions. Either way, it was a new thing. He'd have to ask about it at their meeting.</p><p>Seungmin and Changbin had come to an unspoken agreement to limit text communication as much as possible. Seungmin didn't think there was any malware on his phone – the number he had given Changbin was for his personal phone, not his work phone, and he got one of his tech-inclined friends to scrub his personal phone every so often – but still. There were technopath heroes, and so there was always the chance of a technopath villain, and there was something about this case...</p><p>Anyways. He was limiting text communication with Changbin, no matter how badly he wanted to say any and everything on his mind just to have the other respond. But they would be meeting, in person, soon! He would content himself with that for now.</p><p>He knew the others were eager to see Changbin, too. He'd texted Chan the morning after he'd discovered the dead superhero, and he'd mentioned seeing Changbin. If Chan knew, then Jisung inevitably knew as well. Maybe Jeongin, too. Seungmin was certain that Chan would have texted every one of the former members of Stray Kids (and Seungmin was 98% positive Chan still had all their numbers) to let them know about the dead hero, but Seungmin was less sure whether Chan would have mentioned Changbin. It was 50-50.</p><p>The muted buzzing of his phone from atop his stack of Banshee-focused papers drew Seungmin’s attention back down from the ceiling. He flipped his phone over, glancing at the alert that proclaimed he had new text messages. His phone continued to buzz as more texts came in. Then his brain caught up to his eyes, and he realized the texts were all from Hyunjin.</p><p>Seungmin’s heart started beating quicker as he immediately unlocked his phone and pulled up the messages. It wasn’t that he and Hyunjin didn’t text, but their conversations were usually short and to the point messages about Seungmin picking up a kid from Hyunjin’s daycare for one of the guys from the IA, or Hyunjin sending him pictures of particularly noteworthy pieces of kid-art. Their conversations generally weren’t multi-texts affairs.</p><p><em>They’re still coming in</em>, Seungmin thought as his phone buzzed again in his hand. Oh god, what if it was something wrong? What if it was another dead hero, or Hyunjin was injured, or one of the others…!</p><p>Then Seungmin actually read the first two texts, and his worries ceased.</p><p>
  <em>Hey Seungmin its Hyunjin!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wait you probably already know that lmao you definitely have my number</em>
</p><p>Seungmin let himself relax back into his seat, loosening his shoulders and allowing the hardness to bleed out of his hands. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over that conditioned response of shielding out upon the first hint of danger. As he flexed the finesse back into his fingers, he continued to read Hyunjin’s onslaught of messages.</p><p>
  <em>Wow kinda weird to be sending you something thats not one of the latest and greatest masterpieces out of Sprout haha but I have a favor to ask?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You can definitely say no! Please feel free to say no it might be a kinda big ask but I wanted to know if youd be down to spar with me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Feel free to say no if you dont want to or dont have time! I just figured I kinda know you best? And you obviously already know Im a hero and all that</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or was a hero I guess</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anyways! You already know about me and Ive been working on some new stuff and just wanted someone to work on it with and I know I wouldnt hurt you and yeah</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just wanted to ask if youd want to spar with me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Okay thats all! Sorry for sending so many texts haha I guess maybe Im a bit nervous about this</em>
</p><p>The farther Seungmin read, the more his heart softened. By the end of Hyunjin’s rambles (which was quite a feat to pull of via text), Seungmin was near entirely soft. It was just… so familiar. Not the request to spar – Hyunjin hadn’t been much of a fighter even back in the heydays of Stray Kids as his spec was geared more towards espionage-focused missions – but just the way Hyunjin spoke. It was, if Seungmin could allow himself to be spectacularly cheesy for just a moment, like experiencing a little piece of a childhood home.</p><p>It was interesting that Hyunjin wanted to spar, though, and Seungmin was intrigued by the “new stuff” Hyunjin had mentioned.</p><p>Casting one more glance at the stack of papers on the edge of his desk, Seungmin decided he’d found out all he could regarding Banshee’s background. He’d reconvene with Changbin tomorrow (<em>tomorrow!</em>), and they’d hopefully figure out another investigative avenue together. For now, he was going to respond to Hyunjin, spar for a bit, and then hopefully just talk. Their conversation from before Jisung’s recital had been keeping Seungmin comfort through the past week and a half, and he missed talking to Hyunjin. He missed talking to all of them, acutely, despite the fact that it had been years and that wound should have well clotted over by now. He missed them, and so he sent the following text to Hyunjin:</p><p>
  <em>I’d be available. Tonight?</em>
</p><p>Hyunjin responded immediately.</p><p>
  <em>Oh wow yes! Yes tonight works! 9pm at the old gym?</em>
</p><p>Seungmin found himself grinning like an idiot at his phone.</p><p>
  <em>I’ll be there.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Hyunjin was nervous. Not quite “first mission” nervous, but definitely well beyond “the kids’ parents are side-eyeing my newest hair color” nervous. He was anxiously tugging on one of the two braids framing his face. He hadn’t really anticipated Seungmin responding so fast, and so positively, but now here he was, waiting for the other just inside the abandoned gymnasium. The location had been the site of many hangouts between the eight of them, away from the pressure of Stray Kids or the Academy, and so that at least was a comfort.</p><p>Honestly, Hyunjin hadn’t even known he’d ask Seungmin to a sparring match until he had picked up his phone this evening, his hands buzzing with a need to do <em>something.</em> He’d been on edge ever since receiving that text from Chan letting him know a hero had been killed. Hyunjin had already been working on some new applications of his spec, but that text had motivated him to start putting the finishing touches on some of his new moves.</p><p>He had very quickly come to the realization that practicing on empty water bottles and terrycloth sacks was a far cry from practicing on living, moving targets. He couldn’t exactly fling knife-like strands of hair at just anyone without hurting them, but Seungmin wasn’t just anyone, and so Hyunjin had texted him. Hyunjin tended to go zero to a hundred like that pretty often, but, well, Seungmin knew Hyunjin. (Had known Hyunjin? No, they still knew each other. Just, differently, now. And they were learning to know each other again, too; the new bits. The changed bits.) Seungmin knew Hyunjin, and Hyunjin knew Seungmin. There was simply no other way it could be.</p><p>Seungmin's arrival pulled Hyunjin out of whatever thought spiral he had been heading towards. The other poked his head in through the gymnasium door hesitantly, peering around the open space. When he met Hyunjin's eyes, he broke into a smile and fully entered the building.</p><p>"This place hasn't changed at all.”</p><p>"Right? I'm pretty sure our names are still carved into the corner back there."</p><p>"Really?" Seungmin quickly headed in the direction Hyunjin had gestured. His light steps and eager attitude were so reminiscent of a much younger Seungmin that Hyunjin found himself swept up in a wave of nostalgia. It took a moment or two before he came back to his body and could trail after Seungmin. (This, too, was nostalgic.)</p><p>"You're right! They're still here!" Seungmin had found the names etched into a corner of the gymnasium’s wall. He was tracing one gentle finger over "Safeguard," his old hero name. "We were so young, weren't we?"</p><p>"We were." Hyunjin gravitated towards where his younger self had scratched "Chameleon" into the plaster with shaky strokes. Hyunjin hadn't felt like Chameleon in years, despite how often he used his spec to change the length and color of his hair. It was different when he wasn't adjusting his appearance for a mission. It was different when he wasn't in a team.</p><p>Hyunjin stood suddenly, turning to Seungmin. "Ready to go?"</p><p>Maybe he could regain a bit of that feeling of being Chameleon – of being something beyond ordinary old Hyunjin – here and now.</p><p>Seungmin stood more slowly. "Why are you so eager to spar, anyways? That wasn't ever really your thing."</p><p>Hyunjin shrugged. "People change." He meant it to come off as indifferent. From the slight wince Seungmin gave, he guessed he hadn't met his goal.</p><p>"I mean, I wanted to be able to do something besides just this," Hyunjin elaborated, gesturing towards his head as he shifted his hair from its current black through a dark blue, into a purple, and back to black.</p><p>"Why now?" Seungmin asked, and from the tone of his voice Hyunjin could tell the other had already guessed at the answer.</p><p>“I wanted to have something, like, offensive, I guess? Just in case. And with everything happening recently, I wanted to put my practice to actual, well, practice. I mean, not that I think I’d be a target, but, um, yeah. Just in case.”</p><p>Seungmin nodded once, and Hyunjin was glad the other didn’t feel the need to question him further.</p><p>“Standard setup?” Seungmin asked.</p><p>“Sounds good. Oh! Um, you're not wearing clothes you care about, right?”</p><p>Seungmin raised an eyebrow at Hyunjin’s question. “I’m not. Should I be concerned.”</p><p>“No, no, you’ll be fine. You’ve got thick skin! Your clothes… maybe not so much.”</p><p>Seungmin’s eyebrow crept further up his forehead, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he started walking towards the open space in the middle of the gym that Hyunjin was pretty positive had been used for tumbling many, many years ago. Hyunjin followed behind him, aiming for the opposite side of the springy red carpet as Seungmin.</p><p>When they were in position and staring each other down across the wide, open space, Hyunjin called out one more “Ready?” just to make sure.</p><p>"Ready," Seungmin confirmed, lowering himself into the wide-legged stance Hyunjin recognized as his "shield stance," the one he had used when placing himself between Stray Kids and whatever was the most recent threat they had been facing off against.</p><p>Hyunjin gave it another couple of moments, casting a careful eye over Seungmin's form before moving his gaze to sweep over the space that was to be their battleground. It was wide open, with no cover and no change in elevation. <em>Perfect.</em></p><p>Another moment, and then Hyunjin was lunging forward towards Seungmin. As he went, he tugged on the two braids framing his face. They grew rapidly, lengthening by feet over the course of a few short seconds and thickening to a rope-like consistency. Once he had around ten feet to work with per braid, Hyunjin focused his energy on the ends of those braids. He had left about half a foot of unbraided hair at the ends. With a bit of concentration, he hardened those ends, then sharpened them to knife-like edges.</p><p>When Hyunjin was about eight feet away from Seungmin, he veered sharply to the right, flinging out his leftmost braid to wrap around Seungmin's leg. With a thought, Hyunjin angled the sharpened end of his braid just across the back of Seungmin's calf, a few inches above his Achilles tendon. <em>Just in case.</em></p><p>As Hyunjin had expected, Seungmin had reformed the molecules of his skin to be invulnerable. The knife end of Hyunjin's braid sliced through the leg of his pants, but not through the suddenly exposed skin.</p><p>Seungmin was still wrapped in Hyunjin's braid, though. With one sharp tug, he fell to one knee. The next time Hyunjin sent the edge of his braid across Seungmin's calf, a thin stripe of red followed.</p><p>"First blood," Hyunjin crowed, extracting his braid and bounding back to the opposite end of the floor.</p><p>Seungmin slowly rose to a standing position, eyebrows raised and gaze locked on Hyunjin. "That's... new."</p><p>Hyunjin felt his smile slid into something sharper. "I've been practicing."</p><p>"So have I," Seungmin replied, and then he was gone.</p><p>Hyunjin had been trained better than to outwardly panic as Seungmin literally vanished, but internally? Internally was a different matter.</p><p><em>Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. </em>Hyunjin's internal mantra was slightly panicked as he did his best to peer into every corner of the gym, taking hesitant steps out towards the center of the floor. The  space was wide open: there was nowhere to hide, and yet Seungmin was still gone from sight.</p><p>As far as Hyunjin knew, Seungmin hadn't suddenly acquired a spec which would lend him invisibility. The other's spec was more protection-based anyhow, not aligned with the espionage-type activities which Hyunjin's own spec had often been used for. Seungmin could strengthen the very atoms of his body, binding them together in patterns such that nothing could penetrate the barrier of his skin. <em>But, if Seungmin could stretch the bits of his being out far enough…</em></p><p>That realization stopped Hyunjin's tentative movement. Instead, he shoved all his focus into wrapping his braids around his forearms and hardening the keratin into form-fitting shields. (That particular trick had been inspired by Seungmin.)</p><p>He had barely gotten his braids solidified when Seungmin reappeared in front of him, right hand fisted and aimed for Hyunjin's shoulder. Hyunjin was rusty, but his reflexes were still toned enough to allow him to quickly sweep his arm up, deflecting Seungmin's blow as his braids absorbed most of the impact.</p><p>"That's new too," Seungmin said, grinning slightly at Hyunjin as he darted back a few feet. The two began to slowly circle each other.</p><p>Hyunjin felt his own lips curve in response to Seungmin's grin. "Says the suddenly invisible man."</p><p>Seungmin shrugged in what was meant to be an act of indifference, though the proud smirk remained on his face. "Things had been slow at the IA; plenty of time for hobbies. My hobby just happened to be applied particle physics."</p><p>Hyunjin snorted. That was such a <em>Seungmin</em> thing to say, especially now, while the two of them were supposed to be sparring. He had often thrown out little one-liners and quips during his sparring matches years ago, and most of the others – Jeongin, especially – had been all too happy to (literally) fire back with their own remarks. Hyunjin hadn't done much sparring himself. He'd learned enough to keep himself safe but had mostly stuck to the sidelines. Now, though, he was here, out on the floor, trading blows and quips alike with Seungmin. It felt <em>good</em>.</p><p>With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Hyunjin shot forward, breaking the easy stalemate he had fallen into with Seungmin. As he went, he sent both of his braids out, strengthening them back into blade-tipped ropes. He aimed one braid to loop once, twice, three times around Seungmin's right arm, the other around his left. Both bladed tips arced towards the shoulders. Hyunjin knew that Seungmin knew he was very purposefully not aiming anywhere near Seungmin’s carotids.</p><p>The blades cut through Seungmin's shirt but stopped there; his skin remained unbroken. Hyunjin had figured that would happen. What he was more interested in was whether Seungmin could shift his molecules to free himself from Hyunjin's hold while maintaining the shield state of the skin at his shoulders.</p><p>As if reading Hyunjin's mind, Seungmin said, "I'm not quite to the point of being able to hold two different forms of matter at once."</p><p>Hyunjin stepped closer to him, leaving his braids in place and staying well out of range of Seungmin's legs. "It would seem we're at a stalemate then."</p><p>“It would seem so,” Seungmin replied, before his face broke into a wide grin. “Bananas?”</p><p>‘Bananas’ had been the term Stray Kids had used to signify a truce at the close of a sparring match that had ended with no clear winner. It was partly a “this is bananas!” kind of thing, partially a (banana) split of the victory, and partly just because it was fun to say bananas.</p><p>Hyunjin’s grin was wide as he accepted Seungmin’s proposal with a hearty, “Bananas!”</p><p>Before untangling Seungmin, Hyunjin let his blades dull and his braids go limp. It was easier to recall the strands, that way. The braids shrank as they returned to him, Hyunjin’s body redistributing the keratin stores into who knows where (science was… wonky, when it came to specs). In another couple of moments, Hyunjin was tucking two chin-length braids behind his ears. He was certain Seungmin’s skin had returned to its soft state.</p><p>“Wall time?” Seungmin offered, gesturing to a wide expanse of blank wall.</p><p>“Wall time,” Hyunjin confirmed, following the other over to the wall. In a motion that was eerily in sync, the two of them bumped their backs up against the wall, then slid down until they were seated, knees up and heads tilted back.</p><p>When they had both finally caught their breath, Seungmin turned to Hyunjin with an eyebrow raised and his signature grin glued to his face. “Your control is incredible. The blades? The strengthening? The curving? Incredible.”</p><p>“Says you! You turned <em>invisible</em>, how cool is that? Felix was the only other person I knew who could do that! Is, I mean.” Hyunjin corrected himself with a slight frown. Felix could still turn himself invisible, probably – him <em>and</em> his chair. Hyunjin just… hadn’t really talked to him anytime recently to have been able to find out.</p><p>Seungmin seemed to sense where Hyunjin’s thoughts were going, as he quickly spoke up. “I’m still working on getting one part to go hard and one part to go wide, but it’s a fun challenge! It’s honestly nice? To be working on myself like this again.”</p><p>“I get what you mean.”</p><p>The two lapsed into a comfortable silence before Seungmin spoke up once more. “How long did it take you? To get the blade and the shield and all that down. I spent months before I could even get one finger to go invisible; the entirety of me took <em>years</em>.”</p><p>"It definitely took a while! Like, months to years, for sure. And it wasn’t a painless process! I definitely cut myself a bunch when I was first getting the hang of turning the sharpness on and off, but turns out epithelium is epithelium, and eventually I was able to close the cuts with minimal lasting damage."</p><p>"Hyunjin." Seungmin's eyes were so, so wide as he fully angled his body towards Hyunjin, face gone slack. "You closed your own cuts?"</p><p>"Yup," Hyunjin replied, trying for nonchalance and probably falling far short of the mark.</p><p>"As in, you healed yourself." Seungmin's words were incredibly slow and deliberate.</p><p>"Yup." That last one barely made it past Hyunjin's heart, which was currently lodged solidly in his throat. This was the first time he had admitted out loud what he was now capable of, let alone to somebody else.</p><p>"Hyunjin, you healed yourself," Seungmin repeated, rising to his knees.</p><p>"I did," Hyunjin breathed out, mirroring Seungmin’s action so that they were eye-to-eye. Suddenly, the dam broke, and his face was stretching into a wide, wide grin. "Seungmin, I did! I can! I can heal! Just small things, I mean, but I can! I can!"</p><p>His joy was evidently infectious, as Seungmin was soon whooping alongside him, yanking him to his feet and wrapping him up in a hug as he swung them both around the room. Hyunjin's two braids were smacking them both in the face, and they were sweaty, and exhausted, and they didn't care.</p><p>"I can't believe it." Seungmin eventually said, once they had both come down from the high and had settled onto the floor, backs once more against the wall and shoulders brushing. "I mean, I absolutely can believe it, but I can't believe it."</p><p>"Honestly? Me neither."</p><p>Hyunjin knew how rare healing was as a spec, in any form. In fact, he could only name one other superhero with healing capabilities: Mina Myoi, better known as Wonder, one of the nine beloved members of wildly popular hero team Twice. Mina truly lived up to her hero name and could heal a wide array of injuries in herself. More astonishingly, she could heal a good number of injuries of those with whom she was in tune. She had her limits, of course. She had to know the person she was healing very well to be able to boost the natural processes of their body, and it was incredibly taxing for her to work outside of herself. She couldn't fix the big things: the amputations or the spinal cord injuries or the destruction of major organs. (<em>She couldn't fix the wounds Minho, or Felix, or Jisung had sustained.</em>) But still; the fact that she could heal at all, and especially in such a scope was a bit of a – well, it was a bit of a wonder.</p><p>“Hwang Hyunjin, you are incredible,” Seungmin eventually said.</p><p>“Kim Seungmin, right back at you!” Hyunjin paused for a few moments after his words, before ultimately deciding <em>to hell with it!</em> and asking, “Do you think we could do this again?”</p><p>Seungmin tilted his head towards Hyunjin, and his smile was soft and bright. “Absolutely.”</p><p>That smile burrowed down into Hyunjin, resting warmly in the center of his being and bleeding out into his own smile, and the taste of something sweet and familiar curled itself around his tongue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why yes this chapter was in fact chansung and seungjin with minimal plot, thank you for asking! I am anticipating things really picking up plot-wise (and also getting-the-gang-back-together-wise) next chapter, but for now I wanted to build the characters and the backstory up a bit more. Minho and Felix POVs are also coming probably next chapter, so get excited for that too! Hope you all enjoyed the seungjin fight scene though; it was pretty fun to write! Writing fic (especially Run Through the Middle) has definitely helped me become more comfortable with action scenes, so look out for more of that good stuff down the line.</p><p>In the meantime, I hope you all are taking care of yourselves! Make sure you're eating regularly, hydrate, get good sleep, wear your mask, take your meds (as needed), take breaks from social media if you need to, tell your friends/family you love them, and be kind to yourself! I'll see you all when I see you &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the hurt haha, but I promise it's necessary to make the Reunion that much better in a couple chapters! Hope you liked the first chapter regardless! I'm also trying to peel back the layers of backstory little by little, so you'll get more details on what happened around the time of The End as we go, as well as more details on each of the boys' specs/abilities!</p>
<p>I'll hopefully see you all in two or so weeks with Chapter Two, which will start from Changbin's perspective! So look forward to that! In the meantime, take care of yourselves, wash your hands, wear your masks, do things that make you happy, reach out to those you love, support social justice movements, and be kind to yourselves! Thank you all so much for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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